


summer

by chiseledclay



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, they're on a boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiseledclay/pseuds/chiseledclay
Summary: (pwp. pretty much)They're changing in a locker room when Rafa notices Grisha staring, his face red. Rafa's just in his tennis shorts and underwear, and when their eyes meet, it’s awkward and weird and for some reason that Rafa can’t explain in a 100 years, he bursts out laughing.‘Huh, whaa-?'Grigor’s look is questioning, but there's a cheeky grin forming on his face.‘Rafa? Why you laughing at me man, huh?'





	summer

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna write a lot more and then kept procrastinating so i thought i might as well post what i have.

They're changing in a locker room when Rafa notices Grisha staring, his face red. Rafa's just in his tennis shorts and underwear, and when their eyes meet, it’s awkward and weird and for some reason that Rafa can’t explain in a 100 years, he bursts out laughing.

 

‘Huh, whaa-?'

 

Grigor’s look is questioning, but there's a cheeky grin forming on his face.

 

‘Rafa? Why you laughing at me man, huh?'

‘Nothing! Not laughing!' Rafa's lying, because he’s in a proper giggle fit now.

 

‘You're still laughing!’

 

Rafa shakes his head.

 

‘Just, your face Grigor!'

‘My face?' Grigor touches his chin and scrunches his eyes in amused confusion, and for some reason that’s even more hilarious. ‘What’s wrong with my face man?’

 

‘Yes, you go red!' Rafa manages to get the words out.

 

Grigor becomes even redder. ‘Nah. I wasn’t, I’m not-’

 

‘Yes, you have red. And you looked at me funny, so I-’ Rafa can feel his face crinkling up, like when he’s smiling so hard and so earnest it threatens to escape his chest. (Like that time he and Paulo from kindergarten held hands and swung each other around and around until they were dizzy and their faces were cold from the whip-swirl of the air and they couldn’t stop giggling into each others little  shoulders because it had felt so good.)

 

Grigor hits Rafa with a towel. ‘What the hell Rafa, the things you find funny man. you're such a kid! Stop, this is so stupid-'

It _is_ stupid, Rafa wants to say but can’t, because his laughter is just weird breaths of air now.

 

‘Still laughing, this guy!’ Grigor exclaims, shaking his head amusedly. ‘Stop!’ He points a finger at Rafa’s chest, and pushes him a bit, and Rafa goes backwards without resistance, and meets the wall. Giggles.

Grigor Dimitrov has backed him into a fucking wall. His eyes look ridiculously wide and black.

‘I was staring at your- your-'

‘What Grisha? Something wrong with me?'

 

There's that cheeky look  again. ‘Yeah. So many flaws, man.’

 

He’s such a joker, Grigor.  

 

‘Your abs. they look too perfect. Definitely something wrong. I was just like, damn, I want abs like that, and-'

 

‘You have abs. Like that.’ Rafa says. Rafa can feel his eyebrows wiggling without his permission, can feel his teeth biting his lower lip. He has to. He just does. He can’t say that kind of thing without going all coy, without blushing.

 

Grigor looks vexed. ‘Oh well, thank you.’ (How could someone not American sound so American?) ‘Means so much.’

 

‘It’s true.’ Rafa can’t help but giggle again, noting the pleased look on Grigor's face, and gasps when he feels grigor's hand touching his stomach. It has been a while since someone so charming has hit on him.

'What else is wrong with me?' Rafa asks, heart pounding. Two can play this game. Grigor walks in closer. Rafa can feel the hard outline of his dick inside his underwear against his own. He resists the urge to snap his hips, to grab Grigor's and just grind. He doesn’t, because he's good at self control and the moment feels perfectly balanced, like a knife edge, and there's a weird kind of pleasure in that too.

'Hmm?' Grigor's voice has gone a bit higher, just like Rafa knows his own does when he's really turned on.

‘Anything more wrong with me?'

‘Y-yeah. Your shorts.'

‘My shorts.-

‘Yeah man. They're so short.' Grigor lets out a little chuckle. 'You got legs man, long fucking legs. And ass, famous ass, huh?'

Rafa laughs a bit more, and they're giggling into each others breathing space and-

'Grigor, do you-'

'Yeah Rafa, can you-'

‘-Want to-’

‘-Wait, what’re you saying? We’re interrupting each other-’

So obviously the easiest way to stop this is to kiss, drowning out half-breaths and half-laughs and smiling over Grisha's stubbly chin, his lips.

 

It takes Rafa a second to get over the fact that this is Grigor Dimitrov, and damn, this is unethical and all sorts of messy, because inevitably they are supposed to be practise partners at best, rivals at worst, but _oh,_ Grigor has a really nice mouth, and his stubble feels so rough on Rafa’s lips, and he’s warm and his sweat smells nice - all boyish and athletic and dizzy.

Grigor opens his mouth first with a gasp, taking Rafa’s upper lip in to suck between hips, a low groan escaping his lips. Rafa can feel the guy pushing in closer, asking for more, and then Rafa's chasing the wet, soft warmth with his tongue, widening his jaw and turning his head so he can kiss in more, deeper. Grigor takes a step closer and Rafa's trapped between his wide, lithe body and the locker room wall. Toned arms wrap around Rafa’s shoulders and come behind his neck, making the pressure on his lips more, Grigor taking advantage of the few inches he has over Rafa. He runs his hands along Grigor's waist and dips under the hem of his t-shirt, and lifts it, and Grigor obeys, whipping his arms up to get rid of the offending clothing item. Grigor's so hairless and smooth, so different to Rafa's other conquests that he doesn’t want to think about right now. And he's delicately beautiful, and Rafa wants to kiss him everywhere, find out what he looks like under the careful, thorough inspection of Rafa's mouth.

 

(Maybe there’s more stubble around Grigor’s cock, maybe there’s the nicer, finer hair on his thighs, maybe there’s coarser hair around his asshole, on his balls, if Rafa just got down now, maybe it’d taste like all the hours they’d just spent in the sun, maybe he’d be able to feel the heat of the Sun and Grigor’s body all in one, maybe it’d taste like the salt of a Mallorcan sea breeze, maybe, maybe- )

 

 

Grigor's not waiting though. He gets a sure hand under the elastic of Rafa’s tennis shorts, and snaps the underwear down out of the way until he’s palming Rafa’s dick. Rafa cants his hips into the pressure, and tries to make his hands move to reciprocate.

 

Grigor breaks off sucking Rafa’s tongue in to talk into Rafa’s cheek.

 

‘What do you like, dude? Rafa? Tell me what you like. You like when guys do this to you? You like handjobs, man? I like your dick, man. It’s a nice size. You’re so white under your underwear, wow. _Fuckkk._ I like the veins on your dick, man. You tell me if you don’t like this, huh?-’  He thumbs at Rafa’s slit delicately, rubbing some of the pre-come around on the head.

 

 

 

He’s a talker. Fuck.

 

‘- I wanna kiss you more, ok Rafa?’ Grigor

 

‘Keep doing- _oh!_ \- that!’

 

Grigor pumps up and down around Rafa’s dick. It’s thick and short; if Grigor  knelt down, he’d be able to take it in his mouth whole, tongue the slit on Rafa’s cock until-

 

Rafa fingers  come around Grigor’s jaw, and he drags him in for another kiss.

 

‘Let me see, Grigor-’ he begs, cupping the tented cloth at the front of Grisha’s shorts.

 

Then Rafa breaks it with a small grin, sweat dripping down his chest, and fuck, _fuck,_ he kneels down and pulls down Grigor’s shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, and opens his mouth around Grigor’s cock, sucking hard and fast.

 

‘Oh fuck, Rafa, fuck, man, fuck-’

 

 

***

 

They’re on the boat, frotting on some cushiony sofa that only fancy yachts have. Grigor has expectation on what celebrity yachts look like based on his time spent with Richard Branson, but Rafa’s feels homelier. It smells like the sea. It’s warm because the sunlight been beating down since forever, and Rafa’s skin is so hot to touch, and well, Grigor’s all over Rafa right now. He can feel their cocks sliding against each other, sweat lubricating the skin. He can feel the rasp of Rafa’s leg hair as it slides against his own. Rafa’s sure hands are massaging his ass, dipping fingers in between to rub against his asshole, making promises. Grigor’s right hand is kneading Rafa’s balls, and Rafa gets slotted even more under Grigor when he opens his legs more and tries to chase the feeling of Grisha’s hand.

\---

 

Grigor very reluctantly takes his tongue out of Rafa’s lovely mouth and finds his voice, somehow, to say, ‘You said you like getting fucked, right Rafa? Right?’ Grigor fends around, blind, touching the spot behind Rafa’s balls, cutting off any reply Rafa might’ve had. Then it’s a small journey to find Rafa’s hole too, and he runs a finger around the rim, and Rafa whines and pushes a finger into Grigor, making him gasp in return.

 

‘We’re, going to, ok- we, grigor?’ Rafa asks. He’s finding it hard to form words.

‘Yeah, Rafa, yeah’.

 

Rafa lifts his head to kiss Grisha again, full lipped, opens his mouth to let Grigor snake in his tongue again. His fingers are grazing grigor’s asshole now, one barely inside.

 

‘We need, the lubricant-’

‘Yeah, dude, it’s on my left-’

 

Rafa flings out his free arm, blind, and finds the tube of lube. He uncaps it and squeezes it over Grisha’s ass. The coolness of it hits grigor and he gasps into Rafa’s mouth, and gasps even more when Rafa makes a mess of it around Grigor’s asshole, spreading it liberally and using his fingers to push more inside. Grigor really wants to reciprocate. He finds Rafa’s hand, clutching the lube, and takes it in his own. He sits up a bit, Rafa protesting a little, and moves Rafa’s balls out of the way to get to his asshole.

 

Rafa’s hips lift up almost automatically, his hands flopping uselessly, unable to continue massaging Grigor himself.

 

‘I’ve got you, Rafa.’

 

Grigor prepares him so carefully, greedily watching the way his fingers go in and out of Rafa’s whorled, tight hole, listening to the way Rafa grunts, vocal and keen, watching the way Rafa’s sweating like crazy, like he’s on court. It’s fucking exhilarating to watch.

 

‘Grisha, please-’

 

‘Just a little more, man-’’

 

Grigor adds another fingers. That’s three now inside. Rafa’s right foot props up against Grigor’s shoulder, and Rafa’s hands grab at Grigor’s arms. He opens his eyes, desperately, pupils blown wide open, and asks, ‘Please Grisha, I wanna do the same, to you, I want to do same-’

 

‘Yeah-yeah, i know-’

 

‘Grigor scoots in closer, his weight on Rafa’s left thigh, and Rafa resumes his exploration of Grigor with his fingers. Grigor loses himself in it, forgetting what he was doing himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

 

The toy is nice and thick and bendy, and it doesn’t feel cold or uncomfortable inside him. The knowledge that he’s sharing this with Rafa, makes Grigor want to come right then. But it feels too good, and he wants this to last longer.

 

They’re against each other both on their backs, their thighs brushing up in the middle and hands clasped around the other arms, rocking into each other like they’re a human-body-made rowing boat. Every row, every rocking, jolts the dildo inside both of them, and they moan in sync, and go faster, and go slower, like they’re one organism, like they’re connected. And they are.

 

*****

 

 

Later, they’re lying on the dock, legs tangled together, the smell of sex slowly being blown away by the sea wind. The double headed dildo is somewhere, thrown aside after they both had come. Rafa can’t be bothered to look for it right now. The wind feels lovely on his skin, and the gentle weight of Grigor’s legs around his own feels good too. The knowledge that the two of them are here, witnessing the same thing, in this moment. It’s fucking beautiful.

 

 

‘I can’t stop thinking, Rafa. My head’s all over the place.’

 

‘Need another blowjob?’ Rafa asks, grinning, swiping at Grigor’s dick and grabbing hold of it for two seconds.

 

Grigor grunts, like he isn’t completely against the idea. ‘M still sore, man, give me a moment.’ Which makes Rafa laugh. He moved his hand to Grigor’s stomach instead, and finds his fingers running along grigor’s hip bones, feeling the way he’s breathing deeply.

 

Grigor turns around to look at Rafa, his head leaning on his elbow. ‘Remember that Australian Open match? That was crazy. I didn’t think six months later I’d be here, doing this with you. Crazy huh?’

 

Rafa smiled, nodding. Grigor’s black eyes were glinting in the low light of sunset. ‘You feel weird? Strange?’

 

Grigor shakes his head. ‘No. No dude. I just - I mean I thought, I didn’t think you were this gay.’

 

Rafa laughed. ‘How gay?’

 

‘You know’, Grigor mutters, his fingers moving around to grab Rafa’s ass, then find the rim of his asshole, now tender and very sensitive. ‘This gay. Like, getting fucked in the ass, power bottom gay.’

 

‘But before, you think i’m a little gay?’

 

Grigor lightly slapped his ass cheek. ‘Yeah. I thought you were, yeah. I just was scared you were like those in denial guys you know.’

 

Rafa sat up to kiss him. ‘I never in denial.’

 

‘I see that.’ Grigor replied, smirking.

 

Rafa let him in again, this time opening his legs so Grigor could fit his cock in, slowly but with some urgency.

 

‘Oh, fuck’, Grigor swore, taking in deep breaths.

 

‘Too much?’ Rafa whispered, clenching tight and then unclenching around grigor’s dick.

 

‘Hmmppf’ was the only sound Grigor made, because then he’d come, overstimulated, inside Rafa’s ass in one quick go.

 

‘Fuck. Sorry.’ Grigor moaned, flopping down, feeling tired and sated.

 

‘So rude, Grisha.’

 

‘I said sorry, didn’t I?’

 

‘You better show you are sorry, no?’

 

‘What do you want then, Raf?’

 

‘Hmmm. Stupid question. You came already. Selfish.’ Rafa sat up and swung a leg around Grigor’s hips, so that he was sat on top of him.

 

‘I’m sorry man. I’ll suck you Rafa. Ok?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘What you want then? Huh? Tell me.’

 

‘Where is the toy?’

 

Grigor flapped his hand around blindly, trying to find it.

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

‘Urggh.’

 

‘Sorry, Rafa. Can we do anything else?’

 

Rafa ground down on one of Grigor’s legs. Grigor brought his hands in to finger Rafa’s ass.

 

‘Let me eat your ass. You hear me Rafa? Let me eat your ass, ok?’

 

Rafa whined and nodded, still rocking, and Grigor pushed at him until he’d flopped back down on the cushions, his ass up in the air. Grigor took a minute to look. Rafa’s ass looked wet and used up and fucking amazing. And on either side were his muscular glutes. Grigor grabbed a hold of them, and kissed the ring of muscle. It made Rafa swear incoherently.

 

Grigor went to town.

 

Rafa wiggled and writhed and screamed, and Grigor knew all the tricks to satisfy him. He hadn’t kept Maria Sharapova or Nicole Scherzinger satisfied lovers for extended periods of time for nothing. He knew his tongue had skills, and he was going to show Rafa how much.

 

He kissed and licked slowly at first, letting Rafa feel the rasp of his stubble against the inside of his ass cheeks. He bit Rafa, slowly and deliberately, until Rafa opened up like a flower, pushing up his right knee to the side, opening up more for Grigor.

 

Then Grigor used his tongue to tease at the hole, which was sensitive and red. Rafa grinded backwards into his face. ‘Ohhh’ he moaned.. ‘More, please more.’

 

Grigor teased at the opening until the ring of muscle let go, and Grigor stuck his tongue in, and teased and teased and milked and milked. He put it in and out, rocking and forcing Rafa to beg for more. Rafa’s left hand stuck down behind him to grab onto Grigor’s hair, and pushed his face into Rafa’s ass even more, begging.

 

 

Grigor forced Rafa’s hips to lift up and took his balls into his mouth too. Rafa’s genitals weren’t big, but they were so sensitive, and Grigor could take them in with his mouth and use his talents, and thank God for that.

 

‘Oh Grigor. Oh, oh, _ohhhhh.’_

 

They were so alone in the middle of nowhere on this boat, and Grigor was grateful. Rafa shouted during sex, he cursed, he made noises, he grunted deeply, deeper than he ever really did on court, and he grunted for extended periods of time, and then he whined, and he begged, he begged so sweetly Grigor wished he could fill Rafa up with anything, his dick, his fist, his tongue, everything. Anything to fill Rafa up with Grigor Dimitrov, make him feel, make him submit the way he refused to do on court.

 

****

 

 

 

‘I can’t stop thinking about that Australian Open semifinal. Oh my god. It’s terrible!’

 

‘Oh come on, forget about it’ Rafa said, kissing the side of Grigor’s neck and sucking in, making Grigor laugh.

 

‘I’m ticklish, dude! And no, I can’t stop thinking about it. Easy for you to say, you won.’ Rafa stopped, grinning, and Grigor took the chance to recapture his lips in a deep, long, intense kiss. They couldn’t seem to stop kissing whenever they were within five feet of each other. It made all the electricity crackling between them during practise really hard to deal with. Thank god they’d been taking almost daily boat trips for dinner and sleeping overnight on the boat more often than not. It allowed for some nice downtime where they could just do this, do whatever they wanted to each other, without Dani or Toni or Carlos looking and judging.

 

Rafa was a demanding kisser. He kissed like he might never get the chance to kiss you again, with the same intensity that Grigor was used to meeting on the opposite side of the court. He whined, and got into your space, and demanded that you hugged him, threw your arms around him, and groped him, grabbed his ass, dick, hair whatever. Rafa just asked for it with everything in his body language. Grigor was only too happy to indulge. Rafa was stupidly hot.

  


They came up for air and stayed in each others’ arms for the moment.

 

‘You feel ready now?’ Rafa asked, still kissing him, light and feathery on his mouth and around. It was fucking cute, and Grigor turned his head to indicate a spot he thought Rafa had missed.

 

‘For USA hard courts? Yeah. I mean, if by ready you mean I’m hurting everywhere and I can’t keep up with you, sure.’

 

‘Where it hurt?’

 

‘If I say my dick, what will you do? Grigor giggled.

 

Rafa slapped him lightly on his arm. ‘Always joking.’

 

‘My thighs, Rafa.’

 

‘Maybe it’s cos we were fucking, not because of the practise’, Rafa smirked.

 

‘Yeah maybe. Is that your plan? You tire me out with sex, huh? Seduce me and then I’m too tired to play any tennis?’ Grigor asked, snaking his hand to lightly run his fingers over Rafa’s crotch, feeling the hardness of his cock underneath his boarding shorts.

 

‘Exactly. I do to everyone on tour.’

 

‘You’re the tour bicycle?’

 

‘Bicycle?’

 

‘You know. Everyone on the tour has had a ride?’

 

Rafa laughed out loud, pressing his forehead against Grigor’s collarbone. ‘Hmm. Maybe. You like it?’

 

Rafa was fucking cheeky. Grigor decided he needed to just show him, mark him, so that he remembered Grigor however much of a slut he said he was.  So he bit Rafa where his collarbones met his shoulder. Rafa melted with a moan. Grigor kept going, sucking in the hot, muscled flesh and smooth, browned skin, and grabbing onto Rafa’s ass with both his hands to build up the pressure between their dicks.

  


*****

  


‘Hey Grigor,’ asks a journalist in a star trek t shirt, ‘What good advice did Rafa give you when you guys were hanging out together?’

 

Grigor grins, remembering. He really hopes he isn’t blushing. ‘Advice? Oh man, so many advices. I mean, well, ha! I think the best one he gave me was-’

 

***

 

‘Keep doing what you’re doing, and don’t, _oh!,_ don’t miss!’ Rafa whispered between groans, rocking as Grigor started thrusting faster. The words registered like a command in Grigor’s ear, if Rafa wanted him to not miss the spot that turned him into 85 kg of jelly, then Grigor wasn’t going to.

 

‘Like this, Rafa?’

‘Yes. Oh, Grisha… Oh!’

‘You like this?’

‘Yes. _Please..’_

 

Rafa was vocal. Not like Maria, or even Nicole, or even Dani. Rafa reminded Grigor a bit of Andy. Filth just poured from Rafa’s lips, and every angle Grisha watched him from and fucked him from, he got only more and more filthy and sensual and irresistible. The heat that engulfed his dick was fucking brilliant. Rafa was tight and so good at clenching around, like he was really well experienced in getting fucked in the ass. Like he could go on forever, like he loved nothing more that to be filled up like this with a cock, with Grigor’s cock. The thought made Grigor thrust in faster, wanting Rafa to really feel it, to remember it, however much of a cockslut he was.

  
  


****

  


By the time the week’s visit was over, Grigor felt like he’d been put through a wringer. It wasn’t just the training, but the fucking too. It was almost like they were really trying to burn each other’s entire energy reserves off.

  


‘It’s good, no?’ Rafa said, grinning. It was their last day out on the boat. They were shaded from the afternoon sun inside the _Beethoven,_ although Grigor would’ve loved to have tanned a bit more. But it was really hot and sticky outside, and making out with Rafa seemed like a lot more fun than the inconvenience of putting on sunscreen.

 

‘What’s good?’

 

‘Sex.’

 

‘It was more than good, alright.’

 

Rafa grinned back, his eyes flitting quickly towards Grigor’s dick, which was tenting his swimming shorts.

 

‘But-’ Grigor continued.

 

Huh? But what?’ Rafa asked, looking confused.

 

‘Man.. I don’t know. We trained so hard, Rafa. And then all that? That took a lot out of me. Especially like, two nights ago when you-’

 

Rafa started giggling. ‘When I said-’

 

‘When you said you wanted me to ride you. Like, that ended up being all me doing the work, and -’

 

‘Hmm. I come so much. So hard.’

 

Grigor seeks the warmth and wet heat of Rafa’s mouth again, remembering just how much Rafa had enjoyed that ride. It was nice spending time with a guy who liked having sex with him this much.

 

‘You came hard but my thighs hurt like a bitch the day later in practise!’ Grigor protested.

 

‘Then you don’t have to work so hard tonight. Your generation, so lazy.’ Rafa climbed over Grigor’s body, keeping his weight on his arms as he mouthed his dick through his shorts.

Grigor had gotten up to tug at Rafa’s neck in an instant. They kissed roughly, Rafa’s lips being forced open, the burn of Grisha’s stubble buzzing around his mouth.

  


When they frotted against each other and came all over their clothes, they were still snogging.

  
  



End file.
